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#101 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 04:51 AM

You won't become a movie star.

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#102 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 04:52 AM

Or a rock star.

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#103 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 04:52 AM

And life will not be Grand.

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#104 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 05:13 AM

So she was cheating on me and I somehow found this important.

I was a man, sort of, and I had to find this man who would dare taint the purity of my one true love! I was sure going to teach him a lesson! How could any fair-minded teenager think it acceptable to make love to an an attractive, unwed teenage girl who may or may not have admitted to dating someone he doesn't know?

I never did have that confrontation. In a drunken state, I had my sober older brother (here's his second appearance, he will have to make a few more) drive me to this girls house at an ungodly hour, where I told her my plan. She had to help me, because I didn't know where this guy lived. It seemed likely enough.

So she snuck out. She was well practiced, I'm sure. She directed us to a house, unbeknownst to me, the home of an older friend with a semi-huge boyfriend. This guy stands at the door, won't let me in, I hit him in the jaw.

It was a glorious fight. It lasted long enough for the cops to arrive. I hadn't a scratch on me, yet. The cops broke us up, shined his flashlight in my eyes, asked for my I.D. and took the light away from my eyes to look closely at the I.D. My eyes adjusted themselves. Let me tell you what I saw and what I did.

I'll tell you in another post.

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#105 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 05:30 AM

Moving on 5 years, I still had PFC Hoffman to deal with. He saw me in the bar and took me outside by the arm. I offered little resistence because I didn't want to make a scene. You have to give me some credit, I can be a perfect gentlemen at times.

I was pretty sure I could kick his a**, so I went peacefully and hoped I could reason with him when we got outside. He never let go of my arm as I held fast and pleaded with him to let me go. I did not want to be caught, I wanted, later to turn myself in. I explained all of this. Would you believe he didn't have faith in me after all the integrity I had shown the unit? (Ha, Ha, I said "shown the unit!")

Who knows what his plan was? Did he really think he could single-handedly drag me 3 hours away to Camp Stanley aboard 2 trains and a bus? Apparently, I didn't think he could.

I grabbed his wrist, freed myself and kicked him hard in the chest. He went down and I walked away like a man. I was surprised to see that he got back up and tried to subdue me again. So I grabbed him, hip-tossed him so that he landed hard and this time I ran. There was no need for a fight. I wasn't mad at him, I just wanted to get away.

I am ridiculously pleased with myself that I know how to fight well. It is very important to my ego.

He still chased me. I'd outdistance him sometimes, relax my pace or start walking, and he'd catch up. I swear, this chase went on for a long time. I have to admire Hoffman's courage.

I also have to admit my shame in doing so poorly on my 2 mile run testing. If I could do what I did, clearly I never pushed myself during testing.

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#106 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 05:30 AM

Oh, yeah. I eventually got away.

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#107 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 06:11 AM

When I was able to refocus my eyes. I saw 4 cops on top of my unresisting brother clubbing him with their nightsticks.

You don't believe me? How come some people don't believe me? How come my attorney, whom I gave a considerable amount of money to, said we couldn't use that in court as my defense?

I don't mean to offend anybody, but historically, police have not had a pristine reputation in regards to the way they handle the public. Written accounts have existed for centuries about the callous mistreatment directed toward offenders as well an innocents. It's well documented. Everybody has seen video tape of police brutality, unprovoked beatings. Does anybody in America not know Rodney's last name?

I grew up watching my dad beat up on Greg. What kind of animal strikes a small boy with a closed fist oer and over again, screaming profanity, split flying out their mouths, ignoring or possibly enjoying the crying and fear. Who does this? A solid citizen (he's actually not a citizen) with good credit and a spotless criminal record.

So, there I was, in the moment. A little drunk, in a fighty mood. I saw what I saw. With no calculated reasoning, no research into the consequences, no logic I ran passed the arresting officer increased my pace and with a surprisingly well executed jump kick, struck one of the good policemen in the head and sent him tumbling, tumbling away from my brother. Eye for an eye.

Actually, one little kick is not, in my opinon, equal to the job they put on Greg. Try arguing that with the court system! No, seriously try. I didn't have the guts to.

My triumph didn't last. Swift justice!

I accomplished what I had set out to. The focus was off of my brother. I guess I'm just like your typical middle child, I wanted some attention too!

Some day (it's always "some day" with me) I may hire an attorney who's willing to actually defend me and I'll take care of all of this. One piece of evidence I will be determined to have admitted; our mugshots. We were seriously beat up!

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#108 Canadian_Guy

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 06:31 AM

So, there I was, in the moment. A little drunk, in a fighty mood. I saw what I saw. With no calculated reasoning, no research into the consequences, no logic I ran passed the arresting officer increased my pace and with a surprisingly well executed jump kick, struck one of the good policemen in the head and sent him tumbling, tumbling away from my brother. Eye for an eye.


Nicely done, don't let ANYBODY **** with your family. This is an awesome read dude, keep it coming!

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 06:39 AM

I wonder if I should have posed as nothing more than an employee at this shop. I have a sneaky suspicion that I would have done more business. People know that I'm the owner, here, and what I do is so transparent. I buy products and sell them at a higher price.

People who would ordinarily not object to purchasing a 20 ounce bottle of Diet Coke for $1.59 at Schnucks scoff at my $1.49 and feel cheated. It's now $1.29. I've had many complaints about my pricing, even though I directly compared them with other marketers and priced accordingly.

If I was just a cashier, maybe people wouldn't feel so creeped out when they come in the store. I'm really friendly, maybe overly friendly.

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#110 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 06:47 AM

Nicely done, don't let ANYBODY **** with your family. This is an awesome read dude, keep it coming!


Thank you. I'm sure a lot of people feel this way, but when they hear the term "convicted felon," it carries such negative connotations, that people generally don't want to have anything to do with me.

I've spent my entire life lying in job interviews about something I'm not even ashamed about. I've pi**ed away a lot of opportunities. I've made a ton of dynamic first impressions, only to be told the bad news later on in the interview process, that "they" do not hire persons with criminal records.

I don't lie, steal or cheat. I don't take advantage of weaker people. I'm nice.

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#111 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 06:53 AM

For many years, I've tended bar. This is something I'm really good at. I wish that I had pioneered some cutting edge technique in pediatric surgery or was a celebrated diplomat with unparalled skills in mediating relations between nations who desperately need to come to a mutual understanding...but I'm not that guy. I am the greatest bartender I know of.

A side note: when employed in my destined profession and people come to the bar and ask my name I always answer "Richard Long." When the sharper ones get the joke, it's beautiful and hilarious.

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#112 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 07:29 AM

I didn't go to Itaewon anymore. I guess it was the people.

Every single day was an adventure itself, you better believe it. But while the story really could be in these details, I will instead focus on the big picture. I get to save it for aother day!

Here's some:

I had sex with a midget.

I met a Muay Thai fighter from Thailand who felt more at ease with me, an American (non-asian) than with the Koreans, whom he'd never had had any previous contact with.

I correctly guessed the nationality of an ethnically Korean tourist just by his manner of dress and posture. I went up to him without hearing him even saying a word and exclaimed "Hey, you're italian aren't you!"

I was involved in a swimming race mid-harbor with the lifeguards of Inchon. I finished in the top 3rd.

I was filmed for a television commercial, though I don't know if it ever aired.

I rode a motorcycle, the only time ever.

I was in the most incredible bar with one of the most stunning ladies I've met (my korean skills were a lot better by then,) that had a view of the harbor in these hundred foot high windows in theatre -style seating, and I watched the sun set on that Yellow Sea, with a beauty that had a profound affect on me, which I wish I could learn to appreciate under normal circumstances. This experience would not have happened but for the seating arrangement, which forced me to look at ships slowly come and go through that harbor, this arrangement which led me to that surprisingly beautiful cliche of the sun appearing to go down.

I did a lot of things, man. This was a really important period for me. LIke I said earlier, this experienced helped define who I am today, for better or for worse.

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#113 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 07:52 AM

The jail in Cahokia Illinois was small, solitary and boring. The drunk 17 year old I once was rinsed off the pepper-spray, tried to recollect what had happened and fell fast asleep.

Next morning, the fearsome Detective had me in his office and read me my Miranda rights, which I signed. He seemed so upset with me, which I found a little curious. I proceeded to tell him everything because I just wanted to go home. I hadn't done anything that serious, you know.

I was not going home.

I was sent to St. Clair County Jail, where I discovered my brother was also being kept. So it was like a family reunion. But the catering was bullsh**! There were also a lot of people that weren't related to us that hung around, too.

Crazy thing. While we were in the holding cell (I hate that I can easily distinguish these things) some gay raver dude who one day showed up uninvited to one of my parties was there. He had lost a lot of weight. And a tooth. Apparently he wasn't well liked. His crime was molesting several dozen young teenage boys, luring them with drugs and performing ******** on them. So it was great that people thought I knew this guy on the outside.

I was charged with a few felonies. I thought that was odd because I only did one thing. There were a couple misdemeanors tossed in there, too, but who cares about misdemeanors? Am I right? Yeah, heh? My bond was $50,000.

My older brother's was considerably less and a couple days later, he got bonded out for a few hundred dollars. So I was alone, again.

I didn't know that $50,000 meant you only needed to pony up $5,000. I also was facing something like 7 years. I didn't know that I wasn't actually going to be sentenced to 7 years. I was pretty dumb.

But, I never cried or freaked out, that would have been out of character for me. I just settled down for a long stay. I played cards for pushups. I had some fun. You know about life giving you lemons? It kinda sucks.

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#114 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 08:06 AM

Let me tell you about going pee while I'm at the store.

I do so poorly here, I can't miss a single sale if I can help it. I go to the glass double doors that make the entrance to my store. I look left. I look right. I look left again, all the while listening for the bell of the elevator. If I see no people and hear no bell, I take off! I go out my back door down the hall, through that door, running through the loading garage, through a third door, a massive industrial sliding metal door through another hall into a corridor where a fourth door is usually open, turn a corner and open the mens bathroom door, hoping it's not locked and occupied.

The entire time I'm doing this, I'm at a sprint and counting the seconds. I whip out my ding dong and take aim. I finish as quickly as I can and wash my hands faster than you can say jackrabbit, unless you can say jackrabbit fairly quickly, which most people can. I don't have time to dry. I run as fast as I can back and as I head through my door, I greet someone who may or not be there with an enthusiastic "Hi!"

I usually do this in less than 60 seconds.

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#115 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 08:09 AM

The janitors think I'm crazy.

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#116 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 08:10 AM

What do you think?

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#117 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 08:51 AM

My "vacation" in Korea had to come to an end eventually. I ran out of money. The party was sucking anyway because I knew what this would eventually lead to, which was fine, but I didn't know how much time I'd have to do.

When I turned myself in, the gate guard was so naive and trusting. I didn't have ID, so he technically couldn't let me in. It was after curfew, so he technically had to report me. But I'm such a conversationalist! If I had a trace of evil in me, I'd be so dangerous.

I told him the truth. The truth can be disarming, especially when one is well practiced at telling it. It was important that I turn myself in. So, I could not let the gate guard apprehend me.

He let me in.

I walked to the M.P. station. I knew where it was from the last time I'd turned myself in. Previously, I announced my arrival at the unit, where I walked down to the M.P. station with a sergeant whereupon they immediately released me to the custody of the same sergeant. The Army is simply not prepared to battle crime.

At the M.P. Station there was equal confusion. They asked me if I wanted to sit in a cell. I said, "Sure." There was more hilarity, it certainly wasn't very professional or by the book. I don't think they had a book.

In time, I was transferred to another facility until it was determined that I should stay in confinement after pretrial hearing. Which led me to a third facility.

If a movie was ever to be made about this (clearly, I'm suffering from delusions of grandeur) I think a good scene to open up to would be me getting escorted to my pre-trial hearing. The sergeants that were my escorts were very small in stature. I remember seeing our images out of the reflection of a tall glass window at the entrance to a building. It was a tough, camouflage, barbed wire looking post we were on, I was cuffed and looked like a gigantic brute of a man being escorted by these sergeants.

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#118 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 01 June 2010 - 08:56 AM

I must leave, see you again tomorrow!

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#119 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 01:41 AM

I'm back!

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#120 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 01:42 AM

I hope I sell a lot of sodas, chips and candy bars today.

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#121 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 02:38 AM

Let me warm you up to the horrifying tale of a skinny white boy, 17 years old, who found himself housed with criminals, mostly from East St. Louis, and how he was able to survive.

It wasn't that bad. Collectively, I've spent close to a year of my life in confinement. It's always been in county jails or maybe juvenile detention, a military prison possibly (spoiler alert!) I have never been to prison. I will acknowledge that this place is likely a different animal, but I am skeptical of most people's accounts of it.

Mostly, confinement is filthy and boring. Privacy is also an issue.

One can choose to drive themselves crazy with thoughts like "What's going to happen to me?" or "That cheating bit** is probably out fu**ing everybody." or "My life is over now." Maybe they'll ask themselves "How come no one is calling me?" or "I wonder if anybody can help me?" Some of them will feel so full of regret and remorse and they'll turn themselves inside out wishing they had done things differently, evisioning a past they wish they could change.

You have a lot of excuse makers too. They have all kinds of reasons why the odds were stacked against them. It seemed like there was no one in their lives that was looking out for them. The thing is, actually... in many cases...it's true.

The problem for me is that the odds have never really been stacked against me. But I was really quite stoic about the whole thing.

I don't really want to give the impression that these criminals were of good, moral fiber. I thnk that I was quite the exception, really. Judge me, you surely will, but I was a drunk 17 year old in the throes of passion. I fought a huge college athlete who willingly reciprocated. When the fight was broken up I saw 4 jackbooted thugs wailing away on an innocent bystander and I stepped in to his defense, a war i couldn't win.

The inmates I came in contact with raped women. There were people who murdered over drugs. There was an inmate who beat a 2 year old into a permanent state of brain damage. Many of these people were in for burglary or theft. Let's not leave out the child molesters, they were the life of the party!

These people were bad.

I can't speak for everyone, but I never had any kind of problems. I am aware, however, that I'm just over 6 feet tall and muscular. I'm also fearless and scrappy. Oh, and I have charm.

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#122 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 03:13 AM

With the help of friends and family, people I admittedly do not give much credit too, I was able to sell my car for the services of an attorney. My legal counsel arranged for a bond reduction, and I was out in three weeks.

Here's the deal: I was 17 years old, still a minor. The release was conditioned on my house arrest, wearing a leg bracelet and staying with a legal guardian, my dear mother.

So she threw me out a week later and the genius that I am, assumed that I was obligated to take flight. I didn't want to go back to jail. In retrospect, I still had an apartment, I still had a job and an attorney and hadn't commited any new crime. I'm certain something could have been worked out. There's a lot to be said about guidance, role models and trusted advisors; or the lack thereof.

Could you imagine how someone, dumber than me, without any guidance would turn out? They're all in prison.

Being the the genius that I was, formerly a scholarly academic enrolled in Hillsboro's gifted program, I took flight, partially motivated by my desire to see my girlfriend, who had been so good to me, and partially motivated by desire to stay free.

So "I'm not going to Illinois!" anymore, and made it back to my apartment. It was a comfortable place.

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#123 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 03:16 AM

This being an open forum, my story is extremely vulnerable to anyone who would want to post in a manner that would ruin the integrity of this work. I am deeply moved by the respect that has been displayed by members of this forum.

I do welcome comments, though.

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#124 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 03:46 AM

Captain Alford III was my legal defense. We're back in 2001. He was okay, he seemed to work really hard. At my home I have everything related to my case, all neatly bound in book form, it's really spectacular. It has every legal document and even a full transcript of the trial. It's probably my favorite memoir from the army. The best part, my pre-trial confinement hearing, unfortunately was not transcribed.

I have the "book" downstairs, in my workout room. My in-laws are staying with us, though, and the workout room has been converted into a bedroom. I avoid my in-laws, so in this moment, where this resource could be quite useful, I do not have it.

I remember Captain Alford's name, escuse me, Captain Alford III, but not the names of anyone on the prosecution team. If a detail is fuzzy, I simply skip.

The officer who was assigned to determine whether or not I was to be held in pre trial confinement or not was an idealized version of a man. Very good-looking, very athletic, he was an officer with a law degree, youth and a bit of rank. He probably could have been anything he wanted to be, but he was not technically a judge. He played a judges role for the day, though.

This whole hearing was unnecessary. I didn't want to go back to my unit, I even told my attorney. He said we were obligated to defend against going to jail, it would make me look guilty if I didn't. I didn't think there was any question of my guilt.

The military put together a strong case, regardless. Most of it was filled with things that were only half-true. Anyway, call me delusional, and maybe, just maybe I might be...but I had never been so flattered by anything else as I was when they gave an account of who I was, what I'd done and what I was capable of.

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#125 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 03:58 AM

When I was 11 years old, I used to stand in front of the Jefferson County Courthouse with my skateboard. I'd be there for hours. When anyone, and I mean anyone, came in or out that door, I'd call out to them "Hi, how are you doing? Check this out!" and I'd push off on my skateboard, pick up some speed and ollie off of the 7-step staircase that led away from the building (the "Courthouse Steps.") This was years before skateboard video games, a decade before anybody had seen anything like this. After I finished my trick, and I didn't always make it, I'd turn to see the startled reaction I got from whomever's attention I had hijacked.

So, here I am again and I still want your attention. "Hi, how are you doing? Check this out!"

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#126 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 04:25 AM

I will remind those of you in the audience, that the military was trying to make a case against me. They wanted me to look as villainous as possible, so that I would not be granted pre trial release. I don't think they viewed this description as super-cool. You may not either. I sure did. Here is as accurate as I could recollect, obviously paraphrased.

"Sir, we must insist that Private Taylor remain in pretrial confinement because he is a flight-risk and has proven by his past actions that he will submit to other measures of control under any circumstances. Private Taylor has went AWOL 12 times and has deserted his unit for months at a time. He has been placed under 24 hour guard with two noncomissiod officers and was able to find a means to escape. He has somehow managed to find a way out of his post without alerting the gate guards. He is extremely intelligent and scored in the top 99th percentile on his ASVAB and has a GT score of almost 140, the highest in his battery. He speaks fluent Korean and has ties to the community. We believe he's been able to support himself this long by playing music and touring at various clubs throughout the peninsula. Attempts to apprehend him have been thwarted as he obviously has martial arts training. His actions have had a huge impact on his unit's morale and we believe that if he was placed back at his unit, other soldiers would try to do the same thing. If he is not placed under pretrial confinement, he will escape."

Doesn't that sound cool?

Let me clarify some things. I never spoke fluent Korean. I had no ties to the community and I never played music for money. My martial arts training was and still is laughable. I don't believe I could have escaped 24 hour guard too easily if the NCO's took me more seriously.

In the moment, it felt really nice to get some recognition.

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#127 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 04:29 AM

I don't want to crack on the military, but on tests of intelligence, I generally score in the top 5 to top 2 percent. That means anywhere from being a 1 in 20 or a 1 in 50. This building, where I have the lobby shop, is filled with attorneys and computer engineers, every other person is smarter than me.

For me to be the top dog in my unit, intellectually, says something about my unit!

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#128 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 04:58 AM

What I've always lacked is sophistication. Here's an example:

When I was holed up in my apartment in South St. Louis, I really started to fear that any minute a police squad was going to bust down the door and take me back to Illinois. Certainly an investigation was under way and it wouldn't be long before they traced me to this apartment. I absolutely couldn't go to work, except to pick up my check.

I also worried that there was a homing device in my ankle bracelet, because I knew nothing of technology and had a habit of taking points of views that were ridiculous. So I cut my ankle bracelet off and wrote a song about it, accompanied with guitar. I played it for my girlfriend when she came back from work. Apparently, her parents didn't seem to mind that she came by.

My only contact with the outside in these few days were my girlfriend. Coupled with her amazing mind, we were able to piece together a solution. We would go stay at Mike's.

My friends, when I got arrested, left to go stay with Mike.

My friend John, the incomprable lover, had a girlfriend that worked with a guy named Mike. Mike was suddenly in our circle. I thought he was lame, but harmless. Mike lived on the same block as Cafe Balaban, which was why he worked there. Later, at his suggestion, I worked there. I had just quit my job at Laffite's. Why not?

One day, while I was working, before I turned to amateur police-boxing, Mike asked to borrow my car keys. He said he had left something in my car, and just to stop by after work and he'll have my keys. I trusted him. Later that day, I started to lose faith in him. So I checked the street, where my car was parked, and saw that it was gone.

So when I got off work, I went up to his apartment to collect my keys and I beat the crap out of him. Everyone was there. What a show I put on!

So it wasn't easy to ask Mike to stay with him. He let me, though.

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#129 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 05:56 AM

Mike lived in a studio apartment. Okay, so let's do the math. Let me see, we have Mike, Kurt...uhhh...John, and me...yes that's 4 dudes in a one room apartment. Oh, and some of us hated eachother.

We lived in this arrangement for a couple of months. Somewhere in there I turned 18. Noone else had ever had an apartment in their name before, so with some motivation, Kurt, who had been my roommate for the past year (John was an on again, off again freeloader) got his first apartment at the ripe old age of 21. Reluctantly, he allowed me to move in.

I got a job at Jack in the Box, but held it for only 3 weeks. I figured that it took that long to process my hours and print up my check and so my employment wouldn't be reported to the Central Intelligence Agency for at least that long. Surely, when they got wind of this, that's when they'll send in the authorities to nab me. I had to throw them off of my trail. God. was I clever! I had it all figured out.

I "donated" a little blood plasma, too. That place is filled with crackheads, and if you divide the compensation by the number of hours commitment, the wage is pretty low. So I needed a job.

There is a large community out there of people who work for money under the table. This would have been a simple enough arrangement. Could you believe that I didn't even think of this?

My plan, that I must confess I actually put some effort into, was to create a fake identity. Here's what my research, achieved by interviewing coffe-house nutcases, achieved. I would go to the library and search old newspaper obituaries for deaths of children under the age of 5, who would match my age in the present. Apparently, so the conspiracy theorists claimed, their birth certificates, which would be on record at the Department of Vital Statistics, would not have the "deceased" stamped on it, as they've never been enrolled in a public school If one of these were acquired through some form of cunning, a social security number could be applied for, then a card, then a drivers license and a whole new identity.

So I actually did some investigation and came up with names, but I never took the effort to acquire the birth certificate. It started to sound ridiculous to me.

Mike Jones let me use his social security number. What a weirdo.

I got a job at Cafe de France as an assistant waiter and I did pretty well. My name was Mike Jones.

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#130 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 06:00 AM

I didn't work at Cafe de France forever. I quit to work somewhere else. A year later, I was walking down Olive Street and passed the restaurant. The owner asked me if I wanted to Valet Park for them. I said sure.

But I had to break it to him, my name was actually Ben Taylor.

I got the job. Oh, how the other restaurant employees reacted!

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#131 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 06:06 AM

I'm going to take a break for about an hour, I'm getting bored of writing. Tell me what you guys think, so far.

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#132 browneyedgirl

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 07:22 AM

I'm going to take a break for about an hour, I'm getting bored of writing. Tell me what you guys think, so far.


I think you have a gift for articulation and authoring.

I LOVE it - please don't stop.

:)

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 07:36 AM

Here's how I roll.

Last night I didn't want to go to the grocery store, partially because I'm broke. So I raided the fridge looking for loose fruits and veggies and came up with this for dinner:
Corn tortillas with a mango chipotle chutney, pico de gallo and a roasted corn-ancho chile salsa

The night before: Mussels in Cartoccio - fresh mussels steamed in an aluminum foil "hobo sack" of fresh peppers sauteed in olive oil and a white wine reduction

The night before;Grilled Chicken with mozzarella and a sauce composed of a lemon-wine reduction, sauteed shallots and garlic with fresh basil and sundried tomatoes.

The night before: I ate a slinger at a diner. I was avoiding home.

The night before: Flour Tortillas with Grilled Steak, fresh guacamole, fresh jalapeno pico de gallo and a honey chipotle sauce.

The night before: Salmon in Cartoccio, fresh fish steamed in a foil packet filled with sauteed garlic, asparagus and anchovies as well as fresh lemon and orange segments, olive oil, fresh thyme and white wine.

And so on...

I'm a really picky eater and I'm willing to cook.

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#134 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 07:36 AM

I think you have a gift for articulation and authoring.

I LOVE it - please don't stop.

:)


Thank you.
  • *BEG* likes this

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#135 Mikmania

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 07:45 AM

Here's how I roll.

Last night I didn't want to go to the grocery store, partially because I'm broke. So I raided the fridge looking for loose fruits and veggies and came up with this for dinner:
Corn tortillas with a mango chipotle chutney, pico de gallo and a roasted corn-ancho chile salsa

The night before: Mussels in Cartoccio - fresh mussels steamed in an aluminum foil "hobo sack" of fresh peppers sauteed in olive oil and a white wine reduction

The night before;Grilled Chicken with mozzarella and a sauce composed of a lemon-wine reduction, sauteed shallots and garlic with fresh basil and sundried tomatoes.

The night before: I ate a slinger at a diner. I was avoiding home.

The night before: Flour Tortillas with Grilled Steak, fresh guacamole, fresh jalapeno pico de gallo and a honey chipotle sauce.

The night before: Salmon in Cartoccio, fresh fish steamed in a foil packet filled with sauteed garlic, asparagus and anchovies as well as fresh lemon and orange segments, olive oil, fresh thyme and white wine.

And so on...

I'm a really picky eater and I'm willing to cook.


dang...
bold prediction here

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 08:19 AM

I was denied pre trial release at my hearing, the one for the Army.

I was sent to this tiny little military prison on Osan Air Base several hours away from Camp Casey, where I would meet with my lawyer, and about the same distance away from Camp Stanley. I just looked at a map and was surprised by how close it actually was to Camp Stanley and Camp Casey. I wonder why it took so long?

There were three major, open bay "blocks." They had bars, like you'd see in the movies, that seperated us from the center...let me start over. This isn't a very good description. I wish I could draw it, scan it and attach it. I don't have that kind of technology at hand.

Okay, let's say you have a square as the floor plan. On the bottom, there's a cell. Three sides of it are a wall, the side facing the center of the square are the bars. On the left, is a cell with three sides as regular walls and the fourth side facing the center are bars. The same on the right.

These three cells make up the outer perimeter of 3 sides of this large square. In the center is pretty open, with what looks exactly like a 4th cell as the guard shack. So, everybody could see everybody. Pre Trial on the left, Post Trial on the right, female at the bottom (this was usually empty) and the guards in a tiny cell at the top and most everything else pretty wide open.

Flanking the right of the guard shack was the entrance to the chow hall. Flanking the left, is how you get out.

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#137 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 08:53 AM

This little facility, which I fail to remember the name of and which I'm failing to find the name of in my half-hearted attempt at searching via internet, was like a country club.

Whoever can find the name of the military prison/detention facility located in Osan Air Base in South Korea and post it in this thread will win a thousand dollars...or at least get bragging rights.

It was still the military, so we had to address the guards at parade rest and stand at attention and keep our hair cut and shave every day and a bunch of other silly things that wouldn't fly at a normal prison. We had other perks, though.

There was a washing and drying machine available to us. For real.

We had the privelege of defecating, urinating, showering and the ensuing jerking in absolute privacy. I could continue to shower several times a day, like a maniac.

Those imbecilic MP's who didn't know what to do with me when I turned myself in at Camp Stanley were cut from the same cloth as these guys. They were really very pleasant. There was this one girl, (yes, female guards,) about 18 and pretty, who used to talk to me all day. Not literally all day, but throughout the day. I'd be on the one side of the bars, leaning in. She'd be on the other side. Maybe one of us would make an excuse about a bruise or a scratch on our finger to briefly hold hands. I imagine it drove her boyfriend, also a guard, crazy. It sure drove the other inmates crazy. They weren't jealous, so much as proud. I don't remember her name.

There was also PFC Hoff. She was really ugly. She was so ugly, that when she'd wander into our bathroom while one of us we're showering, under the guise of "inspecting," but really trying to get fu**ed, no one would fu** her. And we were inmates. Well, Felder might have. Shortly before trial, he said he would. I got sentenced and sent to post trial confinement across the way, shortly after he broke down and confessed what he was willing to do, and I never found out.

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#138 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 02 June 2010 - 08:55 AM

It's almost 4:00 and I gotta go.

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#139 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 03 June 2010 - 01:38 AM

Did you miss me? Probably not.

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#140 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 03 June 2010 - 01:41 AM

There's no virtually no dialogue in here. If I was every to write anything, aside from this, I would probably need to add some dialogue.

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#141 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 03 June 2010 - 01:44 AM

Out of no where, Felder announced "I'm going to fu** Hoff!"

I was amused, but obligated to answer with "Eww, gross!"

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#142 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 03 June 2010 - 02:15 AM

At Cafe de France, everyone thought my name was Mike, so that's what they called me. It took some getting used to. I didn't respond when addressed a few times at first., that was awkward but easily dismissed. Not much story there with the name change.

That's the perfect alias, by the way. Mike Jones, it's extremely common and quite forgettable. Just like the real Mike Jones!

I didn't have to change my name. As a clear thinking adult (sort of) I can now say, without a trace of doubt, that there were no government agents trying to track me down. That was the silly fantasy of an immature mind.

It was the first, but ot the only, restaurant I worked where the staff wore tuxedos, which I now find ridiculous. There are a lot of subtleties to fine dining service. I will not bore you with them. The food was incredible!

I did pretty well for a teenager. I saved my money.

Something worth mentioning, that I take pride in, was my ride situation. Cafe de France was downtown. Our apartment was 14 miles away, I just checked mapquest. I took a bus to work, but usually I didn't get out of the restaurant until late. I would often miss the last bus by minutes. So I walked. It was a long walk.

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#143 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 03 June 2010 - 02:25 AM

I haven't mentioned my girlfriend in a while. My wife, who's crazy, doesn't like her in the story. As this is not fiction, I'm bound by certain restrictions. Obviously, I must pick and choose certain events and details to include or I'll never put an end to this tale. Mary was a catalyst for an integral part of the story. Her work is done. It would be as necessary for her to remain a part of this narrative as it would be to give detailed accounts of the kitchen staff at Cafe de France.

She's gone!

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#144 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 03 June 2010 - 02:34 AM

My wife is the most clear-thinking, insightful person I've ever met. Her genius and integrity is unparalled by anyone. Her beauty is unrivaled. I've never really even felt an attraction for another woman or emotion for that matter.

Any physical act I engaged in with a female was clinical and unfun. The women were all of such low character that I can't really even remember any of it. I regret having ever tried to copulate with anyone but my wife.

It would be a shame to be a woman unlike Aubree. There is only one kind of beauty and only one personality worth having.

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#145 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 03 June 2010 - 03:30 AM

How was life with Kurt?

I'd like to say the song remained the same but it didn't. When his name was the one on the lease, he changed.

For any of the younger readers who are new or about to enter the big world of apartment dwelling, let me address something. Having an apartment doesn't make you a big man. This is barely an achievement. You're not suddenly an adult. If you're name is on the lease and you're collecting rent from your friends, you do not have license to be a jerk.

Kurt walked around naked at my apartment, it didn't matter who I had as a guest. He had all the freedoms he could dream up.

We threw blowout parties. We had a keg in the refrigerator. We generally woke up sometimes in the afternoon. Hungover, Maybe more than one person on a twin mattress. On the floor. Possibly in the kitchen.

Kurt was unemployed for a couple months there and I wasn't tearing into him about rent.

People smoked in my apartment. No one had to clear it with me. I didn't really have any restrictions or rules. Let's party.

I'm not saying it was the healthiest, but Kurt was responsible for a lot of what went on their. He knew the acid hook-ups, the raver lifestyle was his, he had the turntables and speakers.

One can't live that way forever, but the "about face" he performed immediately after getting his name on a lease was a clear indicator of his true character. No loud music. No gatherings at all, much less a party. No smoking. Don't disturb his sleep. Don't even use the dishwasher, it will run the electric bill up! He even cut his hair, what a dweeb.

This was one of my early lessons. Interpret what you want out of this.

I got my own place after a couple of months, even though I was still a fugitive.

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#146 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 03 June 2010 - 04:31 AM

I wonder if anyone is still following this story. If I never posted again, would anyone care?

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#147 Canadian_Guy

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Posted 03 June 2010 - 04:43 AM

You can't stop while your in a military prison in korea, I would like to know what happens to Ben Taylor

#148 browneyedgirl

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Posted 03 June 2010 - 04:47 AM

My wife is the most clear-thinking, insightful person I've ever met. Her genius and integrity is unparalled by anyone. Her beauty is unrivaled. I've never really even felt an attraction for another woman or emotion for that matter.

Any physical act I engaged in with a female was clinical and unfun. The women were all of such low character that I can't really even remember any of it. I regret having ever tried to copulate with anyone but my wife.

It would be a shame to be a woman unlike Aubree. There is only one kind of beauty and only one personality worth having.


THAT is beautiful..she is a lucky lady. :)

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Posted 03 June 2010 - 05:29 AM

I don't know if it's referred to as "material facts," though I do know the term exists and it seems to fit the definition, but there are a number of things in a military legal battle that must be agreed upon before the case goes to trial.

This makes sense. Let me give you an example. If a member on this forum was to post that "Fedor is the greatest fighter ever" and no one else agreed that that is in fact a fighter by that name, there wouldn't be grounds for a debate.

If a man shows up to my convenience store and wanted to speak to someone regarding his phone bill, I couldn't help him.

So the attorneys must agree that Ben Taylor was an enlisted soldier, stationed in South Korea, assigned to the Alpha Battery of the 38th Field Artillery. The more that could be agreed upon, the more sense could be made of this case and the smoother things would proceed.

This is relevant. Attorneys are the ones who file submit legal documents. It follows that attorneys are the ones who create them. They word them, they type them. I didn't have a computer or a typewriter in my cell, you know. So you can either agree or disagree with what's presented to you.

As one is obligated to take the word of a mechanic or a surgeon, one is put in a position where they have no choice but to rely on the wisdom and experience of their attorney. I can not repair my transmission and I could not remove my appendix.

In retrospect, I may not have agreed to some of the "facts" as presented. But if I'm ever in another legal proceeding, I'm sure I will be clueless once again.

As I stated much earlier in this tale, I was advised by my attorney in my civilian trial to not argue to the court about the police beating my brother, unprovoked, with nightsticks as my reason for rushing to his defense. This is insane advice, as it is the one thing that clears my name, the thing that makes what I did less than a crime.

AWOL is not a crime generally punishable by a Uniform Code of Military Justice. Desertion is. Had I not been kept up for 5 days and 5 nights, with an indefinite continuation, on constant detail duty without a break and no showers or a change of clothing, one could reasonably argue that I would not have deserted. It is not safe or legal to treat soldiers, especially ones who have not received a fair trial, in such a manner. This may have been grounds enough for the military to have simply chaptered me out with no criminal penalties. A less moral and more money-motivated soldier may have even filed a lawsuit, and won.

But my attorney advised me to not say anything that would make the military look bad.

Who cares, though? By the time my trial arrived I'd already served 2 1/2 months. I don't know if employers can even access military records. My military service certainly has never lost me an opportunity.

I was sentenced to 3 months, meaning I had 2 weeks left. It would have been a shame anyway, to not visit post-trial confinement and see what those guys were up to. I received a Bad Conduct Discharge.

My one and only day of court was...September 10, 2001.

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#150 ReturnoftheSoup

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Posted 03 June 2010 - 08:55 AM

See you tomorrow.

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